


The Fire Breathes

by knaveofmogadore



Category: The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: M/M, its actually an awful injury but its not graphic and nobody dies, t for poetic injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaveofmogadore/pseuds/knaveofmogadore
Summary: A jadam au where *spins wheel* John gets overwhelmed by his ximic and *throws dart* has times where his legacy has a mind of its own and he's just a vessel then *reads the tea leaves* Adam is the only one who can bring him back to himself





	The Fire Breathes

**Author's Note:**

> This is not finished by any meaning of the word, but really more of a prompt I gave to myself and haven't written out yet that's long enough to post. I liked the prose so consider it a possible teaser, maybe.

Adam reaches out almost blindly, John burns so bright against the black of his own storm. His hand catches a burning tangle of fingers that does not feel like John at all. Adam holds tight to them, squeezing his hand around John's in an iron grip strong as death. The skin of John's palms burns Adam's hand down to the muscle but still he holds tight. John, no, the thing that takes over John, stills with one foot on the ground and the other hovering in the air. He, it, jerks uselessly. It turns and by the time both feet are on the ground and he faces Adam, some of John has surfaced in his eyes. 

The terrifying void has receded and the grey, empty rage bleeds away until the only thing in John's face is anger, /his/ anger, and the pinch of guilt in the corner of his eyes. His fingers tighten around Adam's hand without thinking and Adam exhales in relief.

A burning thumb brushes the back of his palm and John smiles, a radiant smile but not a true one. Something haunts John's eyes, a fear from deep down that Adam wishes he could only understand, wishes even more that he could take away. 

John's burning grip tightens and despite himself Adam hisses in pain. John drops his hand as if he were the one burned and Adam cradles his hand to his chest. It does nothing. Part of him wishes John had not let go. 

“You're hurt,” he says softly. 

Adam hushes him before the guilt could taint more of his face, before he could say anything about himself that he knew was wrong. 

“And you're back here with me.”

John chokes on a breath and swallows back his tears. Later, Adam promises. John takes his hand, his own palms cool as ice and his fingers achingly gentle with him. Later they can talk, he promises. John's healing legacy soothes away the scars of the moment like a cooling salve with gentle prodding of fingers and caressing of thumbs. Later they can figure out how to stop this. A kiss acts as the bandage and Adam tangles their fingers to show that he is still here. John is still here.


End file.
